


Ways To Fall Apart

by plinys



Series: ABC Fic Challenge [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her first day in Afterlife, Skye asks Lincoln to spend the night (in a super platonic way, of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ways To Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> For my abc fic challenge, letter d is for dreams!
> 
> Also, welcome to the SkyeLincoln ship, I love everyone in this bar!
> 
> (also I got like three requests on tumblr for this after I'd already started this fic, so if you guys requested this, then this is for you, kinda yeah?)

After everything that had happened – showing up here, the tour, the subpar popcorn, finding out Raina was living in the same place as her – all Skye wanted to do was sleep.

Well, no, there was a lot of things she wanted to do.

Such as getting a message out to Fitz and Simmons, or screaming until her lungs gave out, or waking up in the back of her van and have the last few years all have been some crazy dream.

But since those weren’t options - sleep sounded like the next best thing.

She’d seen the look on Lincoln’s face when she mentioning turning in early, he’d wanted to stay and talk with her after that incident with Raina, she could tell that much. Skye had only really known him for a day, but she could tell already that Lincoln was the worrying type.

And currently he was the worrying about her type.

“I’m fine,” she insists, doing her best to ignore his sad puppy dog face, “I’ve just had the day from hell and-“

Those words, if anything, made the expression on his face ten times worse.

“-that’s not what I meant.”

“Pretty sure it is,” he says, teasing slightly even with the expression, “I understand, first days a bit rough, but it will get better, trust me.”

And the funny thing is she sort of does.

Sure, she hates the whole _powers_ thing and being stuck here, but when Lincoln says that it’ll get better a part of her wants to believe him.

“I guess I’ll be going then,” he offers, “I’ll stop by in the morning, we can grab some breakfast or-“

“Stay with me,” Skye says, before she can really think about what the words imply, “just for the night.”

He arches an eyebrow at her, his expression more teasing than before, “I really thought it would take longer before you gave into my charms.”

It’s only once he says the words, that the implication of her own clicks into place.

“That’s not what I meant,” not that she would have minded, but some other night perhaps. “It’ just my first night here, or first that I’m going to be aware of and I’d rather have somebody with me just in case…”

“In case?”

“Back before, when I was with my friends, I used to start the shaking thing when I was sleeping,” she explains aiming for as vague as possible, “and I don’t want to break the whole compound just because of one bad dream.”

“You won’t,” Lincoln says, in what he surely means to be a reassuring manner.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Skye insists.

“I do.”

“Lincoln-“

“But I’ll be here,” he says without a second’s hesitation, “for as long as you need me.”

The relief she feels at those words is a bit shocking.

Thankfully Lincoln doesn’t make a big deal about it, only giving her one teasing smile when she tells him to get in bed with her “in a super platonic way, I swear to god.”

And it’s no small thing, the comfort she gets when opens his arms so she can rest against him and feel the grounding presence of somebody else beside her. She can’t remember the last time she’s had somebody beside her like this.

It was strangely intimate without actually being _intimate_.

She was glad the lights were off, hiding the way her cheeks colored at that realization from Lincoln’s view.

“I’m not going to wake up to find myself hovering a foot off the bed, right?”

“I make no promises,” he replies, “though the last time I shocked a partner was years, so you’re in good hands.”

“You have girls in your bed that often?”

“Not usually ones as pretty as you.”

And she knows he’s just teasing – he probably is – but between them this comes so easily, as though it’s second nature. Nothing’s ever been this easy before.

“Go to sleep, you dork.”

Falling asleep beside him is something she likes to think that she could get used to.

It’s the waking up part that turns out to be harder.

The nightmares come as expected.

Even here she cannot escape from them.

They shift and change: sometimes it’s her friends hunting her, sometimes she’s running through the woods, and other times – the end result is always the same.

She wakes to the sound of something breaking, eyes snapping open to meet Lincoln’s eyes, because he’s still here throughout it all. He does more than she had expected, helping her sit up before giving her a count to breathe in time with and insisting that it’s all going to be alright.

“You’re safe now, I’m here,” he says again and again until she can start to believe him.

Until the room around them stops shaking.

It’s then that she falls forward, leaning against his chest because the only thing still shaking is her own body, frantic and exhausted and, “I’m sorry,” she says quietly when she thinks she won’t be heard.

Of course, he hears her. “There’s nothing to be sorry about it.”

“What am I going to say, everyone’s going to know it was me, that I panicked and had a nightmare and-“ she hates this, feeling weak and hopeless, in the face of her own dreams.

“You can blame me,” Lincoln offers, rubbing a hand against her back in soothing circles.

“Last time I checked your powers included being a walking lightning storm, not causing minor earthquakes,” she points out, “nobody will believe me if I blame you.”

He lets her pull back as she says those words, fixing him a scrutinizing look. Even with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the room, she can see a mischievous look settle on his face.

“Oh you still caused them, but you can blame me for the reason why?”

“I’m not following.”

“Skye, I’m spending the night in your room,” he prompts, and just like that it clicks into place.

“Ah,” she says, and a second later she’s grinning as well, “at least, that gives you an excuse to stay over tomorrow night?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Not that kind of invitation,” she replies, pushing at him playfully, “not yet.”

“I’m holding onto that yet.”


End file.
